


Quirks

by compos_dementis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People have called Poland "quirky" for the way he dresses. But Lithuania has quirks too, doesn't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quirks

Feliks had always been curious as to why Liet had never asked him about his peculiar habit of cross-dressing.

 

He supposed that after spending such a long, miserable time with Russia – who would beat the disobedience out of Toris at any kind of questioning – Liet must be afraid to ask, wanting to stay on Feliks’s good side. As if he had a bad side when it came to Liet. Liet had been the one to teach him patience, after all, even in the moments when they thought they’d kill one another.

 

Feliks would have told the truth, in any case. That he wore skirts because he wanted to look good for Liet, because they were comfortable on him, and stylish, and seeing Liet’s green eyes trail up and down his exposed legs in obvious temptation was better than going to the movies any day. He liked seeing Toris flushed and awkward, stammering and speechless at the increasingly inappropriate outfits that Feliks donned.

 

He would have told him that it was just a quirk of his.

 

And he already knew that Liet would have laughed and said yes, well, he doesn’t have any quirks, himself. And what a lie that would have been.

 

Feliks knew Liet’s quirks better than anyone, didn’t he? Even if he never pointed them out, never asked about them or said anything. He knew that speaking up would make Liet uncomfortable, and it wasn’t that sort of uncomfortable that Feliks liked to force upon his closest friend.

 

No. He knew that Liet had his own little oddities about him, even if they were much more subtle than something like Feliks’s cross-dressing.

 

Toris had this little stutter when he was nervous. He’d had it since they were very small, long before Russia had come into their mutual lives. Toris’s face would go red from the neck up, and he would stammer quietly and shuffle his feet – pretty much the cutest thing Feliks had ever seen.

 

He also had a habit of playing with his hair. Shoving the brunette tangles behind his ears, or pulling it back into a ponytail with his hand before letting it go again, or shaking his head to make it swing about his face. When they were small, his hair had been shorter, and he supposed Toris wasn’t used to having to take care of it while it was like this.

 

Well. He looked better with longer hair, anyway.

 

Sometimes Toris had a laugh, too. It was really just a chuckle – one, two, three, four – and then one of those hair-tucks. This was him being flirtatious. He might not think he had a flirtatious side, but Feliks knew better. That lowering of eyelashes, shifting closer, voice speaking in soft low tones. Flirting with him. It was enough to make his heart beat somewhere in the vicinity of his throat and skip beats dangerously.

 

When Toris ate, he fiddled with his silverware while he chewed.

 

When Toris slept, his breath caught on the inhale and the exhale came out slow.

 

When Toris dreamt, he talked under his breath about Russia’s hands and Russia’s eyes and Russia, Russia, Russia.

 

When Toris laughed, tears rolled down his face.

 

When Toris cried, he choked.

 

He didn’t know how Toris kissed, but he liked to think that that was quirky too – and that it would taste like sunshine and rye fields instead of like tears and snow.

 

Feliks had his quirks. Maybe loving Toris a little too much was one of them.


End file.
